


Bed of thorns

by friedpossum



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: All of the trigger warnings, F/M, plus size OC, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friedpossum/pseuds/friedpossum
Summary: You're standing in the clearing with Ricks group, and along comes Negan.





	1. Who the fuck are you?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I write short chapters. It's a thing.

The clearing is silent. Ricks breath is unsteady and loud. Everyone is standing, weapons held to their heads, facing the RV. Out of the RV in front of you steps a man with a wolfish grin. You feel the fear and anger in you bubble, as he swings a barb-wire-clad bat onto his shoulder with ease.

" _On your knees_." His voice is something else. Velvet laced with gravel. He walks slowly around the clearing, staring down everyone. You see your group – well, Rick's group, really – all sink to their knees one by one. The anger is bubbling in you, but then there he is, in front of you, at the end of the line. Last one standing. He's handsome, and looks about ready to eat you up with that wolfish grin. You feel his warm breath on your ear when he leans in, after looking you over, and staring you in the eyes. You feel it then,when your eyes meet, the heat of something sweet and warm, building up in your body. He speaks curtly, only that one word, and you can see that he expects to be obeyed. " _Kneel."_ The almost whisper and that direct look you can't help but challenge just for a second, makes you weak at the knees.

As you drop, breathless, to the ground, his grin grows. He tilts his head and looks at you, as if going ' _huh. Interesting._ ' to himself. He blinks, slowly, and points the bat at you. You, knowing everyone in the clearing is following his every move and now watching you both, look up at him, meeting his eyes, and trying to not give away anything you might feel. "You. Legs, further apart _."_ You can feel your cheeks burning as you do as he says. "Good girl", he says, chuckling under his breath. He wanders a bit, speaks to Rick. Most of the people look terrified, ready to run, flee, fight, something. But you....feel the fear melting away with every stride he takes.

He threatens them, makes them whimper, cry and beg and you.. feel strangely exhilerated. You don't burrow yourself in shame – atleast not too much. You know why he has that effect on you. He reminds you of the time before everything went to shit. The man that made you feel...safe. You realise just how much you've missed it. How much you've missed a strong hand to lead you, a strong hand to pull on your leash. You're pulled from your thoughts as he stops in front of you.

"Now, who the fuck are you?"

 


	2. Identity

 

You race through it in your head, what are your options here? Answer him politely? Or show some of your fire? You consider the question for a second, before thinking how that scenario would play out. "I could answer that with my name, I could answer that I too am Negan, like your people seem to do, I could answer that I'm no one...but I'm going to answer it honestly." Negan looks at you, brown eyes with a gleam of curiousity. "I'm alive. And I'd like to stay alive. I'll do whatever it takes to stay alive. That's who the fuck I am." You fall silent, awaiting his response. "Whatever it takes, huh?" A shiver curls down your spine. No, you couldn't really answer like that. Survival meant this time hold your tongue. "Speak when you're spoken to", Negan roars, as your train of thought kept you silent for way too long. "I'm nobody. Really." Your voice quivers somewhat, and you hope it doesn't carry. You didn't meant to annoy him, but there you go. Good job, you pissed off the guy with the barb-wire-bat. He shakes his head, dismissing you. "None of that humble crap. Name, sparky. Or I'll rename ya. And I'm in a weird mood already." You blush from the look on his face, but manage to stutter out your name. He points the bat at you and then Rick.  
  
"So, how long have you been with these guys?" He crosses his arms with a mean smirk, leaning the bat on his shoulder. "About a week or two – almost two weeks", you answer hesitantly, trying to count the days in your head while speaking. He smiles. "Honest answer. Excellent. See, what I want to know, is how someone like you, can make it this fucking long, in all this shit." He keeps smiling and you get a sinking feeling in your stomach. He waits for a response, but you're not sure what to say. "Someone like me?" You ask it, almost adding a 'sir' at the end, automatic survival mode kicking in. He pokes you in the gut, barbwire on the bat catching on your t-shirt. "Yeah", he smirks, poking you again, and making holes in your t-shirt. "Someone like you." You know what he means. Someone fat. Someone slow. You feel a bubble of anger float to the surface and pop in your chest, spreading a warm, familiar fire and strength to your limbs. "Sun Tzu", you answer. Just that. His smile widens. "Oh really. What would you do if I were to swing at you,right now? Right now? What does Sun Tzu have to say about that?" He takes a stance as though he's about to swing. "Sun Tzu only goes so far", you answer. "Sometimes you're just plain fucked". He points at you with the bat again, and barks a short laugh. "Damn fuckin' straight. And _that_ is your fuckin' lesson for today". He moves on, the last sentence loud enough to carry over the entire clearing. " _Sometimes you're just plain fucked."_

 

Your heart is thundering, beating so hard it feels like it's about to burst a hole in your chest as he walks away from you.

 


	3. Cravings

Six days pass. For each day, the swirling unease and restlessness in your body grows. You'll be damned if that rough voice at the back of your mind is going to take over your thoughts entirely, even if he has already stolen a great big chunk of them. It feels like you're always listening. Is that a car, is it _his_ car? Would he come? You know that he will. He was if nothing else a strategist, and him not showing up for the first collection of goods seemed almost impossible. But when would he come, and would you see him? You know it's a horrible idea, to get his attention and put yourself in his spotlight like that, again, but you crave to be _seen_ by him again. You haven't been seen like that in years, since before all this. You crave that raspy, drawn-out laugh, and that gravity-defying lean, and you crave that smile. Lost in thought, you get on with work, slowly but surely finishing the task at hand, namely a make-shift bed for yourself. You've found and carried in eight large concrete bricks that will work as legs and support for the bedframe, and you're finally done carrying in the heavy two by fours in, sawed them to fit and assembled them to a frame. As you start to rise, to test the sturdyness of the bed, the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. You know it's him.

 

You turn, still half-sitting on the floor, your salvaged mattress in the corner, propped up against the far wall. "Don't let me interrupt", he smiles. You honestly don't know what to answer him, you can feel every atom of your body being pulled to him like a magnet. "What, the regular beds aren't good enough for you? Are you the princess on the pea, or what is it?" He gestures to the bed, as he leans on the doorframe, blocking most of it. You stutter as you answer. "N-no, it's just that .." Your mixed feelings makes you blush, and you can feel your cheeks burn with shame. "I don't think they'd hold me", you finish quietly. He considers this for a second, looking you up and down. "Maybe not. Ikea-shit." He grins again, gesturing to the width of the bed. "I see you made room for a ...guest." Your blush deepens. You realise that you'd done so without even thinking. Subconsciously maybe you _had_ been thinking of someone. "I.. I guess I did." Your voice is almost a whisper and you can't stop staring at the floor – even though you want to stare at him, drown in his eyes. "Well. Let's test it! C'mon!" He pulls you up so fast your head is spinning, you stumble a bit, and accidentally lean towards him. He smells of soap, fresh bread, leather and gun powder. "S-sorry." He smiles knowingly. He sounds amused when he puts the bat down near the wall. "Here, come help me with the mattress." You each grab it and place it on top of the make-shift bedframe. He sits down on the bed, lays down and stretches. "Well, it's comfy enough." He pats the bed, beside him. "Well, come on, you gotta test this thing before you get some company." You move slowly against the bed. "Come on, I don't bite" he pauses,and smiles even wider. "not much anyway", he chuckles. "C'mon, a big girl like you in heat, you gotta quality check this thing before the real deal. Can you imagine if you're in the middle of it, and boom, there goes the bed?" The sting of his comment is almost removed from laying carefully down next to him, your pulse going a million miles an hour, while the smell of him overpowers you.

 

There's a creak of leather, and a shift. He's turned on his elbow, looking at you. "I make you really fucking uncomfortable, huh?" The wolfish grin makes you bark a laugh. "Oh, you have _no_ idea." Something changes in his look. "Oh, really?" He says, and you swallow uncomfortably, leaving a pressing silence. You can feel his eyes on you, every breath you take monitored as if by a big feline before it strikes. "Yeah", you answer after a few long seconds, your voice gruff with mixed emotions. You stare into the roof, too scared to look at him, afraid that whatever little dignity you have left will melt away if you meet his eyes. Suddenly you feel his hand,on your hip, grabbing hold,and forcing you to turn face to face with him.

 


	4. All fired up with nowhere to go

You manage to not curl into a fetal position, but your hands that were resting on your chest are now half in front of your face, half in front of your chest, and you've drawn your knees up. You can't help it, your entire body screams for protection against this immeasurable danger, while all you crave is for him to pin you down and take you over. You can feel goosebumps erupting all over your body and your hair stand on end. You realise that this primal feeling, on some level, is what a deer must feel when facing a wolf, in that half-second before running away.

"Why do I make you so uncomfortable?" he purrs, his voice like the low humming vibration of an old engine. Some small sliver of anger slips past your defenses, and you bark at him. "You're kidding me, right?" His eyes narrow slightly. "It seems to me, that lowering my defenses around the guy with the big bat and all the power, is a pretty fucking terrible idea." His smile isn't lost, but his eyes are colder. He grabs your throat in one quick movement and squeezes, with one hand. You try not to panic, you try not to claw at his arm, but when he leans in with his whole bodyweight, and pulls your head backwards by grabbing a fistful of your hair, you try to pry him off, without annoying him, or hurting him, which you know would probably not end well for you. His fingers holds your throat firmly, making it hard to breathe, without actually hurting you. "See", he purrs effortlessly, "I could kill you anytime, anywhere, I could. Because", he smiles, "I _am_ the guy with the big bat." He releases the grip on your throat,and as your breathing steadies, you realise he's half-lying on you, his body leaning on yours, and his hand is still in your hair, still pulling. Your throat feels exposed, vulnerable, your pulse is a thunderstorm, but still... _but still..._    
"The thing you really should consider", he says, face suddenly serious, as his chest presses down on yours, "is why I haven't... _yet."_

You feel a chill run through you. _Yet._ No matter how you turned the matter in your head, that meant that he most likely would, eventually. Suddenly the hand in your hair felt stronger, and his weight felt heavier on you. You look at him, your voice cracking with emotion. "I'm more fun than a nuisance – atleast for now, I guess." He leans even closer, his hot breath on your ear, his stubbles scratching your cheek. "What does Sun Tzu have to say about guessing?" His soft laughter rings in your ears far after he's moved away from you. You lie still, body still ablaze from his touch, and your thoughts in freefall into darkness. But in the darkness there is still a spark.

"Fuck you", you say quietly. You're still lying on your side, staring at his face. A shadow falls over his face, if only for a split-second. He turns his head back to you and smirks. "What, right now? Okay." You start stuttering. "I-I.." He continues smirking. "No, no, I get it. You wanna _really_ test the bed before you let loose." Negan at your service. "You just go ahead and start the engine", he indicated his crotch with a pelvic thrust before continuing, "and let's fire this baby up!"

He looks at you expectantly, and you decide – what the heck. Let's do it.

 


	5. Wood

 

You sit up, and grab hold of this belt, anger and defiance pulsating through you, mixed with embarrassment and lust. He grins slowly, but you can see from the corner of your eye, that he is also surprised. As your hands unbuckle his first belt, one of his men bursts in through the door, and he mock-rolls his eyes. "Now what? I'm kind of in the middle of something here, Simon" and he grins to you, a devilish gleam in his eyes. You sit back, leaving his belt unbuckled, and a wave of shame burns your cheeks. How could you have let yourself be so easy to manipulate? You mumble an excuse, and get out of your own room and out as quickly as you can, that dry, drawn-out laughter making your chest pulsate with every step.

You find something to do quickly, there is wood to be chopped, there is wood to be stacked, and you go at it with all the fire that is burning in you. After you get warm from the steady moving around – chop, chop, chop, stack, chop, chop, chop, stack – you lose your sweater, and keep going in just a t-shirt, not caring much about the chill in the air. For every chop you hear that soft laughter in your mind, for everytime you bend over and pick up the wood, you feel his hands on your throat and in your hair. For every bit of firewood you place on the pile, you feel your hands unbuckling his belt, and you draw your breath. You feel like your body is simmering, close to a boil, and only one thing can quench these flames.

 

As you bend over and pick up the last pieces of firewood that you've chopped, a familiar voice drawls from behind you. "Man, I'd hate to be the guy to stand you up." You get goosebumps all over, but turn and try to look unaffected. You move to stack the firewood, and he leans next to you while you do so. "Oh?" you ask quietly, trying to say as little as you can, not trusting your own voice. He grins, as the autumn wind chills you further, and you feel exposed. You reach for the sweater, and while you try to get the sweater on without looking stupid, he loses the jacket, only wearing a tight, white t-shirt. He grabs the axe and slides it out from your belt in a slow, teasing motion, before placing a log on the chopping block. He looks at you and pulls at your sweater neckline. "All that pent up anger? Ouf." He chuckles. "You got that on backwards and inside out, by the way." You remove the sweater quickly, tossing it on the pile alongside his jacket, cheeks a flaming red, while you watch him as he chops.

 

The long, sinewy arms, the muscles showing through his shirt, nothing abnormal, just normal-sized muscles, and his slender frame moves steadily to chop wood. You notice that the veins in his arms are very visible, the hair on his strong arms looks soft, and you wonder how those arms would feel like wrapped around you, and the simmering feel comes to a boil. He looks at you, hair ruffled now, as you come closer, to pick up the wood he's been chopping. You place the wood in the pile and hear his steps in the gravel behind you, after one final thwak of the axe. You can't move, everything seems foggy and fuzzy and then there he is. He stops behind you, places one hand on each side of you, and purrs into your ear. "A big, strong girl like you .. needs someone bigger and stronger." You turn to face him, without thinking, your lips almost touching. "I _need_ no one," you say, trying to stand your ground. "Oh, I think you do", he says, moving closer. "I think", he says, his body only inches from yours, "that you really, _really_ ," he underlines the words by pushing his body into yours, his arms now holding your wrists tightly,  " _need.._ a strong man". You struggle to keep your breathing straight, not to mention your thinking.

 


End file.
